Elevator Music

Yesterday we made an excursion to a museum in Saratoga Springs. They told us at the door, “We have no art today.” But isn’t this a museum? “Yes, but the exhibitions are being swapped out. Come back next week.” But we have come a long way today. “Well, we do have a little art. It’s in the freight elevator. Over there.” She pointed toward a far wall. We walked over there and Bernadette pushed a button. The elevator doors opened upon a deep amethyst atmosphere. We stepped in. The doors closed behind us. The elevator moved neither up nor down. We were well into the art now. Between a couple of decorated sitting cubes on the floor was a vintage stereo machine direct from the seventies. A record was on the turntable. Phil cued it up because he remembered how to do it. Music started to play–a Stevie Nicks song. We listened and listened and listened some more. It wasn’t bad but we kept waiting for something else to happen. It never did. Just like the seventies. When we had had enough of it once again, Bernadette pressed another button. The elevator doors opened and we made our exit back into the 21st century. We departed the museum and spent the rest of the afternoon discussing art over Thai food.